


Red White and Orange

by EC-10 (Meta1220)



Category: Far Cry 5, Tom Clancy's The Division
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crossover, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Peggies aren't murderous psychopaths mostly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23547316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meta1220/pseuds/EC-10
Summary: The Apocalypse. End of Days. The Collapse. The event has many names, in many cultures, and many methods by which it will come about. While Joseph Seed and his flock prepare for nuclear Armageddon, Marcus Greene and other Agents of the Strategic Homeland Division find themselves dealing with the end of civilization as they know it through entirely different means.A Far Cry 5/Tom Clancy's The Division series crossover.
Relationships: Faith Seed/Marcus Greene
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Red White and Orange

It was calm when he touched down. Nights out here were quiet, or so he’d been told. The watch on his wrist glowed softly, as did the communications rig clipped to his backpack, that shade of ‘Division Agent’ orange cutting through the immediate darkness surrounding him.

The air was still, and oddly warm. Marcus found it hard to breathe through his mask at times, especially when it got hot out, but he was managing fine, for the moment. A decidedly electronic chirp in his right ear signaled the analytic computer’s activation in his gear, followed by a rather feminine voice. His handler for the past three months, Faye Lau.

 _“Agent, can you read me? Marcus?”_ she’d ask, a note of concern slipping through.

He’d tap his watch’s face once, for yes. _“Excellent. We need you to get a read on exactly what’s happening out here. Apart from that admittedly disturbing footage released a few months back, and that a Federal Marshal went missing and no one bothered to investigate, we’re completely in the dark. You know what to do, Agent. Stabilize, protect. Remember, you are not a threat to the people living here. Lau out.”_

With that, Marcus was on his own. For the moment at least. Lifting the glowing face of his wristwatch up to the eyeholes of his patriotically painted ballistic mask, a fuzzy, static filled image of the area surrounding him would fill his vision.

Intelligent System Analytic Computer online. Patching into local transmissions…

_“Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired at Hope County Jail. Officers in need of assistance, over!”_ The Agent checks his map again confirming his heading, nods to himself, and emerges from the treeline, adjusting the straps on his bag so they don’t drag.

It was the middle of the night, so really, there shouldn’t have been too many people about. The sounds of voices close by shot that theory down, however. Two people. One male, one female, and both armed with what appeared to be civilian-spec assault rifles painted the rather off-putting shade of eggshell white.

“Why don’t they understand? We just want to protect them from what’s coming. We didn’t come here to hurt anybody.” said the male, clearly distressed. From what Marcus could make out in the adjusting darkness, their clothes were distinctly… not military. White tops, brown work-pants, black boots. Adorned with heavily stylized crosses.

“Give them time, brother. Adversity and an unwillingness to accept the Father’s message are common, you know that. Don’t let it trouble you too much.” responded the woman. The sight of a masked _being emerging from the trees like a ghostly apparition_ did give the duo pause, however.

They’re frightened. That much, he can tell. One, the male, fumbles his rifle, while the other falls over, landing on her back. Eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and fear, she stares up at Marcus as he slowly approaches, boots thudding on the packed down earth with soft crunches.

He crouches in front of her, masked head tilting slightly to the left in a non-verbal inquiry of her condition. “A-am I okay?”

A nod, and that same quizzical tilt. Any more and she thought his head would click into place. “I’m fine, can you help me up please?” she asks, the quiver in her voice gone now that Marcus was no longer a threat. Another nod, and the agent would offer his hand, help pull the woman to her feet.

A small smile flits across the brunette's youthful features for a moment, and the man accompanying her seems more relaxed as well. Marcus smiles behind his mask, happy he could right his wrong.

“Are you heading somewhere, big guy?” asks the woman, looking into the opaque eye holes of the Agent’s mask. He shrugs. “You don’t know? Well, you can come with us, if you want…” she trails off, waiting for an answer.

“ _Mm-hm_.” he rasps, nodding again.

The Agent pauses again, tapping his ballistic mask with his left hand and gesturing at the man and woman with his right. “You… want to know… who we are?” asks the rifle toting man with a noticeable Southern drawl. A solitary nod from Marcus confirms this. Stealing a glance at his travelling companion, he smiles, a far cry from the nervous wreck he was moments ago.

“I’m Samuel. The woman you scared into next Tuesday is Bethany.” the man smiles wider upon catching the frown that flits across Bethany’s face.

Marcus slowly signs the words 'Nice to meet you’, his hands slowly falling back down to his sides. Bethany’s eyes light up as the agent does this, and she would quickly sign back 'Wait, you’re mute?’ Marcus’ head shakes quickly from side to side. He signs back, 'No. It hurts to speak, and sign language is faster.’

“Eden’s Convent isn’t far, and you look exhausted,” continues Bethany, concerned. “I’m sure we have a bunk we could spare.”

Truth be told, Marcus did feel pretty sleepy. The flight into Hope County was a long one, and tracking the collapse of services and coordination of National Guard and Army troops into Manhattan as things steadily worsened drained him and his superiors considerably. It was a grueling and sometimes unforgiving job, but it had to be done.

'How far?’ signed Marcus, hefting his backpack up a little higher. He was grateful he’d picked a two-strap instead of a single strap bag. His shoulders would be killing him if he hadn’t.

'Just up that hill.’ signed Bethany, pointing towards what was clearly a swirling beacon of flower petals and green fog. This gave Marcus pause. He’d seen some pretty strange things back East, like Cleaners raiding a convenience store for Twinkies, or escaped criminals from Rikers Island singing horribly off-key karaoke in what was left of the Midtown Music store, but nothing like this. The masked Agent stares up the hill at the admittedly mystifying swirling pillar for several long moments, saying nothing all the while.

'Up there.' signs the masked man, betraying nothing save for bewildered disbelief through body language alone. He'd look back at the duo, then back up the hill, trying to some extent to process what exactly he was seeing. An unsteady, sleepy sway slowly entered the Agent's gait as he and the two members of the Project at Eden's Gate made the slow, meandering trek up towards the convent on the hill.


End file.
